


Smith

by ThomE_Gemcity_06



Category: Supernatural, due South
Genre: Alternate Reality, Frigging Angels!, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:50:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9542408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomE_Gemcity_06/pseuds/ThomE_Gemcity_06
Summary: Dean wakes to find that he's a detective in Chicago and of course it's an angel's fault.





	

_bang..._

_...bang..._

_bang..._

It was persistent, that banging and Dean clutched the grip of his handgun that resided under his pillow. His head was killing him; and if Sam didn't get that god damned door, someone was going to be shot-- first, whoever was behind the door and then Sam for not getting it faster. The banging continued and Dean could hear muffled voices behind the door, but he couldn't understand what they were saying.

His eyes snapped open and he scrambled from his bed, his gun clutched in his hand. He was such an idiot! He should've awoken at the first bang and if not, then Sam should have. He came to a stop as he realized that he wasn't in the motel room that he'd gone to bed in, but instead an apartment bedroom. This wasn't right.

And where was Sam?

He did find Sam as he searched for a pair a pants quickly before whoever was at the door decided to kick it in, but not in the context that he was thinking of. He didn't find person-Sam, but picture-Sam. A photo on the wall by the door: it showed an actually smiling Sam in an expensive looking suit, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a woman Dean had only met in person once, Jess; and behind them what looked like that statue of Liberty in New York.

"What?"

So, apparently shooting Sam was out of the question because he was in New York with Jess, who was supposed to be dead the last time he checked. So he was confused and even more so when he spotted a shield on the bedside table. He walked over and picked it up-- a detective's shield? What was going on? He looked at the gun in his hand and found that it wasn't the one that he usually carried, but instead a cop's berretta.

There was a knocking now, instead of the banging and Dean swore, that no matter what the hell was going on, whoever was on the other side of that door better have a god damned good reason for being so loud.

When he got to the door, there was no peep-hole, so that was just shit. Dean didn't know what was on the other side of that door. It could be human, the cops apparently, demons (but they probably would have kicked the door down already, they tended to do that). So he stood more out of the way of the doorframe, holding his gun behind his back as he unlocked the door but left the chain hooked. He opened the door as far as the chain allowed and looked between the crack.

"It's about time!" a blond man growled. A cop.

"Glad to see that you're finally awake, Det. Smith." A dark-haired man in a red uniform smiled at him.

"Of course..." Dean shook his head.

 _Smith_.

_Fricken Angels!_

 


End file.
